


can't stop missing you

by feeltripping



Series: atlantic city [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coitus Interruptus, F/F, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeltripping/pseuds/feeltripping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filled prompt for:</p><p>Canon divergence, no death, world is at peace. Abby walks in on Lexa and Clarke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't stop missing you

fic prompt: (canon universe) lexa didn't die and now the world is at peace. lexa and clarke are together but in secrets til abby walks in on lexa taking clarke (top Lexa)

Clarke rides in the center of the column, protected on all sides. For the first half of the journey she and Octavia had ridden together, talking quietly, but Octavia pulled away as they reached the gates, Indra calling her aside. Clarke tucks her face into her scarf to protect it against the frigid wind, ducking her head and letting her horse find its own way home.

A Grounder boy catches the reins, grinning toothily and cheerful at her, chattering something too quick for her to understand. He laughs when she blinks at him, not unkindly, and pats her on the back as he helps her dismount. Clarke kisses her mount’s nose, still a little fondly awed at horses, _horses_ , even if she’s become disillusioned slightly by the smell of them. The boy smiles again, brighter at the affectionate way the horse noses at her shoulder before trudging obediently towards its stall and its feed trough. The boy offers her an apple and she declines, waving as she leaves. 

“Clarke.”

Clarke turns. “Mom.” They hug, brief and awkward, too much between them for easy familiarity. “Did you need something?”

Abby hesitates. “I thought we could… walk together, to the welcome.”

“Okay,” Clarke agrees, and they do, huddled against the cold until they slip into the big stone building and feel the heat of the banked fires against their skin like a warm blanket. “We’re meeting L--the Commander, first. The other Ambassadors aren’t arriving until the day after tomorrow.”

“Mm,” Abby responds, polite. Clarke winces. It’s not like her mother didn’t know that already, it’s just they’ve so clearly run out of things to say to one another. Kane joins them, smiling, and they walk together into Lexa’s receiving chamber. 

Lexa sits on her throne, in full armor, black wings painted across her face. “ _Monin_ , Ambassadors of the _Skaikru_.”

“ _Monin, Heda_ ,” Kane says, lifting a hand. Lexa flicks her eyes to him, acknowledging. She nods to Abby, and locks her gaze with Clarke. Nothing softens in her face, and Clarke lifts her chin. Lexa barks an order and her people melt out of the shadows, looking to the side deferentially. They lead them to guest quarters, clean beds and large meals. Clarke excuses herself, ignoring her mother’s quiet request to eat dinner together, and winds her way through the halls, nodding at the guards she recognizes. 

Clarke slips into Lexa’s room and there’s a large basin of water, steaming. She shrugs her cloak off, closing the door behind her.

She sinks into the water with a faint slosh and a groan, almost too hot on her skin. She dips her head backwards, resting on the edge of the tub, and lets her legs float to the surface, luxuriating. She’s dozing, the steam curling on her face just right, when she hears the door creak. She hums, lifting a lazy hand in greeting. Lexa’s fingers slide between hers, smoothing against her knuckles. “ _Klark_ ,” Lexa murmurs. 

“ _Hei, Leksa_ ,” Clarke says, accented. “Join me?”

“You left a trail,” Lexa teases, and when Clarke cracks open one eye she sees Lexa gathering her clothes up from the floor, leaving them in a neat heap on a stool. 

“Join me,” Clarke asks again, putting an extra wheedle in her voice. “I’m lonely.”

Lexa looks over her shoulder, her lips quirking faintly. “Oh?” She shucks her armor, slow, laying it out neatly on a table. Clarke watches her skin appear, inch by inch, and finally Lexa slips out of her bindings and her underwear and stands, naked and golden in the candlelight. 

Clarke dips her head back into the water. “Yeah. So lonely.”

Lexa steps into the bath, groaning faintly at the feel of the hot water on her muscles, and sinks in deep. “Better?”

Clarke leans against the side of the tub, settling low. “No.” She affects a pout, and Lexa smiles, proper, pleased. Clarke pushes off, flowing over and hearing the water lap at the sides of the tub. She settles in Lexa’s lap, slippery and warm. They kiss, lazy.

Lexa touches her sides, her hands sliding to Clarke’s waist. “Better now?”

“Yes.” Clarke nips Lexa’s jaw. “Did you think about me, while I was gone?”

Lexa pulls her close and tips her head to the side, letting Clarke dot the side of her neck with gentle bites, working her way down. “Always.”

Clarke blows a stream of bubbles into the water before lifting her head up again. “I missed you.”

“And I, you.” Lexa kisses her again, carefully gentle. “How was the ride?” Under the water, she massages at Clarke’s thighs. 

“Long,” Clarke sighs, groaning when Lexa finds a particularly sore spot. “Tomorrow?”

“I have cleared my schedule. We won’t be disturbed.”

Clarke’s eyes go dark. “Good.” She starts to stand and Lexa pulls her back down, turning her.

“In time, _hodness_.” Clarke melts, helpless against Lexa’s endearments, whispered rarely, and only when they’re completely alone. She hears a bottle clink, and then Lexa’s long dexterous fingers slide through her hair, lathering, her calluses dragging on Clarke’s scalp. She guides Clarke’s head down and rinses, the soap flowing in rivulets around them. Lexa’s rooms are far enough up that’s it quiet, insulated against the city noise and the rumble bustle of the building outside these four walls. “Better?” Lexa asks again, quiet moments later, Clarke in a boneless puddle against her hands, purring as Lexa cleans the grit and the dirt and the sweat from her hair, her skin.

“Take me to bed,” Clarke murmurs, and the water sloshes over onto the floor, cooling, as Lexa stands drawing Clarke into her hands and lifting. “Don’t drop me,” Clarke teases, “it’ll ruin the mood.”

“Never,” Lexa says, and lays her out on the bed, dripping on the furs. She rubs a towel through Clarke’s hair, smiling when Clarke makes a pleased noise, and then her own before tossing it aside. She settles on top of Clarke, their damp skin sliding and pebbling in the cool air. 

“I’m cold,” Clarke mutters. Lexa reaches over her, fumbling, and pulls something soft and warm over them both, cuddling close. “I missed you,” Clarke says again. “Call me _hodness_ again.”

Lexa’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Your accent,” she murmurs, fond. She tucks a pillow under their heads, their bodies tangled together. 

“ _Ai hod yu in_ ,” Clarke says. It blooms slow over Lexa’s face; happiness, oddly alien on her features. 

“I love you, Clarke,” she whispers, and kisses Clarke’s forehead, reverent. They sleep so close Clarke feels her ribcage press against hers when they breathe. 

++

Clarke wakes up to a cold bed. Lexa is sitting at her desk, frowning. She turns when Clarke stirs, smiles. “Hello.”

Clarke yawns, sitting up. “Morning,” she mumbles, sleep rough. “Food?”

“And--” Lexa’s accent stumbles over the word, “coffee.”

Clarke pads over, the blanket draped around her naked body. “I knew it’d catch on,” she says, smug. She leans on the edge of Lexa’s desk. 

“We had a similar drink, before. Your version is sweeter.” Lexa stands, walking to the door. She murmurs outside, to someone, and comes back in with a tray. “Sit.”

Clarke touches her wrist. She backs up to the bed, Lexa following, and sits crosslegged. “Eat with me?”

Lexa’s in a soft looking shirt, sleeveless, the buttons casually open, and pants loose around her bare feet. “Yes,” she agrees, but scoots until she’s leaned against the headboard. She extends a hand, the tray laying at her side, and Clarke crawls over until she’s nestles into Lexa’s front, their legs stretched out beside each other. She presses a hot cup into Clarke’s hands and Clarke takes a sip.

“Sweet,” she says, on a pleased sigh. She offers Lexa the cup, and Lexa murmurs, negative. She nudges a piece of fruit against Clarke’s lips and Clarke takes it, chewing slow. Lexa crunches on a slice of apple behind her. 

“It should not take long, the meeting. Your mother and Kane will meet the others, swear similar oaths.”

She feeds Clarke another bite, bread this time, heavy with honey and smeared fruit jam. Clarke swallows. “Will they bow to you?”

Lexa smirks against the side of Clarke’s neck. “Only if they want to.”

It startles a snort of laughter out of Clarke, and she giggles, mirthful. “Unlikely,” she says, and Lexa kisses her behind the ear before nudging more food into her mouth. Lexa feeds her breakfast, quiet and interspersed with her hands massaging Clarke’s neck, her teeth around Clarke’s ear, a hand nudging the blanket aside to crawl slow up her inner thigh.

“How long are you staying,” Lexa murmurs, when breakfast is eaten and coffee is drunk and Clarke has sucked the tips of Lexa’s fingers in her mouth to lick away the last of the jam and crumbs.

“Two more days,” Clarke says, letting Lexa’s fingers slip out of her mouth. She swallows. “The meeting, and we leave the day after.” Lexa’s hand clenches on her waist before going forcibly lax. She swallows against Clarke’s ear. “I know,” Clarke says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Lexa tips Clarke’s head back onto her shoulder and they kiss. “Don’t be sorry,” Lexa murmurs, “you are a great leader to your people. I knew you would be.”

“Sometimes you’re the only one who thinks so,” Clarke mutters. She rolls over and onto her back, naked, stretching out. She tugs at Lexa’s arm and Lexa settles between her legs. 

“I have always known the _Skaikru_ to be foolish,” Lexa says, against her lips, and Clarke kisses her, long and with promise. 

“Take this off,” Clarke murmurs, tugging at Lexa’s top. “If we only have today we better make it count.”

Lexa’s eyes go dark and pleased, anticipatory. She sits up on Clarke’s hips and pulls her shirt off, casting it aside. Clarke frowns at a shadow of a bruise across her ribs, dark and black even as it’s clearly fading away, old. Lexa catches her looking. “Nothing to concern yourself with,” she says, laying her torso along Clarke’s. 

“I’ll decide what I concern myself with.” Clarke tips her head to the side, avoiding Lexa’s kiss. “Talk.”

Lexa sighs. “A skirmish, almost a week ago. It broke no bones.”

Clarke frowns. “And it doesn’t hurt?”

Lexa looks almost amused. “I am _Heda _, Clarke. Battle doesn’t hurt me.”__

__“It hurts me,” Clarke says, soft. The amusement falls from Lexa’s face and she kisses Clarke, reassuring and insistant._ _

__“I am well,” she murmurs, and lets Clarke roll her onto her back, lifts her hips as Clarke gets her naked, her pants tangling briefly around her ankles before Clarke throws them aside._ _

__“Good,” Clarke says, possessive. “And you’ll stay that way.” Lexa’s right leg hooks around her waist, her hips lifting up. Her hands slip from Clarke’s hips to her ass, squeezing. Clarke rocks them, back and forth, deliberately slow and grinding. “You will, right?” Clarke asks, as she starts to pant. “Promise me?”_ _

__Lexa’s eyes squeeze shut for a few long seconds before they open. She touches Clarke’s cheek, gentle; she cradles Clarke’s jaw. “I will promise you everything,” she says, quiet and low, “in my power to guarantee.”_ _

__Clarke rests her forehead against Lexa’s and speeds the pace of her hips. Lexa lets out a soft noise, longing. Clarke slides a hand between them, rolling her knuckles, and Lexa cries out before sinking her teeth into her lip. “Lexa,” Clarke gasps, her body coiling and tensing. “Please.”_ _

__“I will return to you,” Lexa pants, arching up, “as many times as I am able. My spirit will find you, always.”_ _

__Clarke shudders when she comes, a tear slipping from her face to Lexa’s cheek, and Lexa kisses her, eyes wide and shocked while her orgasm follows, leaving them slumped together on the bed, shivery and flushed._ _

__Clarke twitches. “You have something to do today? I get if you’re busy running the world.”_ _

__Lexa mouths at her shoulder, fond and lazy and loving. “Today is for us.”_ _

__++_ _

__They eat lunch by the open windows, sitting on big cushions and eating cheese so sharp Clarke almost yelps when she tastes it, spiced meat and bread that crunches warm and fluffy on her tongue. Clarke lays in Lexa’s lap with the breeze ruffling their hair and tells Lexa about the latest bomb Raven set off in the woods, complains (mostly) good naturedly about Murphy’s attitude. She makes Lexa lay on her front on the bed and walks her hands along the arch of Lexa’s spine, pushing down firmly until Lexa’s so limp and relaxed she falls asleep, snuffling against the coarse sheets._ _

__Clarke sketches. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get Lexa just right, not the balance of strength and mercy and fury, or the soft lines of compassion and love and loss, but she does love trying, the charcoal scratching against the thick paper. Lexa keeps a wooden box under the bed full of her sketches, flowers and friends and landscapes. Every time Clarke opens it she finds the ones of Lexa are creased and smudged, sometimes with droplets of Lexa’s warpaint, or flicks of Lexa’s blood. She likes knowing Lexa carries Clarke with her when they’re far apart, even if it hurts just the same._ _

__Lexa stirs before Clarke’s finished, and she sets her work aside to crawl back on the bed. “If I had paints,” she muses, “I would paint you.” She smoothes her hands up Lexa’s naked back._ _

__Lexa blinks at her, still faintly sleep addled. “I have paint on my back.”_ _

__“Not like these--” Clarke traces her tattoos with her nails, making Lexa shiver, “--not permanent.”_ _

__“You could,” Lexa offers, arching in a stretch before relaxing back into the mattress, her arms propped under her head. “I could send for the needles and ink.”_ _

__Clarke frowns. “I thought-- I mean, Octavia told me--” She trails off. “She told me it’s a bonding rite.”_ _

__“Mm,” Lexa agrees, sleepy eyed. “Let me know.”_ _

__Clarke gapes at her. “Did you just propose? Did you just propose to me?”_ _

__Lexa’s nose scrunches, but she still sounds nonchalant. “I believe I have always made my position clear.”_ _

__Clarke’s heart beats, too fast. She looks at Lexa, laid out relaxed and soft with sleep, a faint black mark at the base of her throat where Clarke sank her teeth when she loved her last night, while the candles burned low. Her chest hurts, too full. “Come here,” she pleads, and Lexa rises to press her onto her back into the bed._ _

__“We should eat,” Lexa murmurs, and Clarke waggles her eyebrows, trying to force some cheer. It works, Lexa’s brow furrowing before she laughs, low and surprised and bright. They dissolve into giggles, Lexa’s face in her chest. “May I,” Lexa asks, the way she always does, and Clarke nods. Lexa presses against her, firm, and Clarke hooks her feet behind Lexa’s back, arching when Lexa closes her mouth around a nipple, sucking, flicking with her tongue._ _

__“Fuck,” she breathes, and Lexa hums._ _

__“I intend to,” she says, drawing back. She shoves their hips down, against the bed, and rocks so hard the headboard knocks against the wall._ _

__Clarke moans. “Yeah,” she breathes, tightening her legs. “Lexa, please.” She tips her head back and Lexa’s true to her word, fucking her in hard dragging thrusts that grind them together, wet and straining, and slams her up the mattress, dragging on the sheets. The mattress creaks continuously, with every movement, and the headboard rattles against the wall. It’ll leave bruises on her hips in the shape of Lexa’s fingers, rub her back red from chafing, and Clarke knows she’ll be able to feel it, when she rides away with Polis and Lexa further and further away behind her, put her fingers in Lexa’s bruises when she’s lying in Arkadia alone._ _

__Lexa hand splays across her neck, applying the faintest hint of pressure. Clarke shudders; she makes a desperate noise. “Close,” she rasps, and Lexa adjusts the pace, speeding up. Sweat prickles Clarke’s hairline; she feels lit on fire in the best way, alive; she can feel Lexa burning with her._ _

__The door opens, abrupt, and shouts from Lexa’s guards spill in. Abby storms the room. “Commander,” she starts, her tone furious and demanding, and then she freezes._ _

__Clarke gapes at her, similarly frozen, and Lexa is completely still, her face blank. They all look at each other in a long, disbelieving stretch of horrified silence. Abby makes a choked off noise, and it breaks the spell._ _

__“ _Mom_ ,” Clarke hisses, and Abby spins to face the wall. Lexa’s guards reach for Abby’s arms, their eyes cast very obviously at the ceiling, and Lexa grows something low and furious, her tone snarling and snapping. The guards flee and Clarke flushes when her body clenches, dripping down her thighs. Lexa looks down at her, incredulous. “Your fault,” Clarke whispers as soft as she can, “you know your voice--”_ _

__Abby makes another horrified choking noise and Clarke stops talking. Lexa rolls away and Clarke fumbles to pull a sheet over her body until Lexa returns, dressed hastily, and presses Clarke’s clothes into her hands. Clarke dresses, hopping as she struggles to yank on underwear and pants and one of Lexa’s shirts. “Okay,” she mutters, and Abby turns, flushed and shifting on her feet._ _

__“I couldn’t find you,” she says, awkward. “I hoped to ask the Commander where you were.”_ _

__“I was here,” Clarke says, for lack of anything else to say, anything else at all._ _

__Abby’s jaw clenches. “I see that. I’m surprised,” she says, directing her gaze, suddenly sharp, to Lexa, “that your guards let me through.”_ _

__Lexa meets her gaze, face like carved marble. “They are under orders not to touch you.”_ _

__Clarke blinks. “They are?”_ _

__Lexa’s eyes flick to her. “She is your _nomon_ ,” she mutters, stiff. Clarke smiles, fluttery and pleased, and she takes Lexa’s hand in hers. Lexa’s face softens, incrementally. _ _

__“Clarke,” Abby says ominously, “a word?”_ _

__“You should speak with your mother,” Lexa agrees, and starts to edge around, making her escape. Clarke clamps down on her hand with an iron grip._ _

__“How about we have dinner,” she says, dripping sweetness. “Together.”_ _

__“I’ll have a meal sent to your mother’s quarters,” Lexa says, “I will meet you both there.” She twists her wrist, quick, and manages to flee before Clarke can prevent it._ _

__Abby stares at her, pointed. “So. Lexa.”_ _

__++_ _

__Lexa is the only one who eats, calm and like it’s a normal meal, not like she’d been caught fucking Clarke straight through the mattress. Abby and Clarke pick at their food and avoid each other’s eyes. Abby makes a few pointed comments, Clarke kicks her under the table. Lexa honestly looks like she’s counting all the ways murdering Abby will make her life easier; she looks at Clarke once and sighs. She pours them all a large glass of wine._ _

__++_ _

__Abby takes Clarke’s arm. “I think you’d better spend the night here,” she says, firm._ _

__Clarke yanks herself free. “No.”_ _

__“ _No_? Clarke--”_ _

__“We leave soon,” Clarke says, hating how her voice goes pleading. “This is--” Her voice cracks and she looks at Lexa, standing tense in the doorway, her face half in shadow. She turns her gaze back to her mother, swallowing. “This is the only time we have.”_ _

__++_ _

__Clarke sits against the headboard, knees gently bent, Lexa’s arms around her waist and her face in Clarke’s lap. Clarke plays with her hair and Lexa hums every so often, little sighs of pleasure. “Raven has something,” Clarke says. Lexa makes a sleepy, inquiring noise. “She made it for Octavia and Lincoln. It’s like--how we did tattoos on the Arc. A machine, sort of.”_ _

__Lexa lays her cheek on Clarke’s thigh, blinking at Clarke through a thin curtain of her hair. “I see.”_ _

__“I could bring it,” Clarke says quietly. She traces Lexa’s eye socket with a fingertip. “When we come, next time.”_ _

__“A month,” Lexa says, heavy. Clarke clenches her fist before forcing it open. She drops a kiss to Lexa’s eyelids, one then the other. “You don’t have to be marked,” Lexa says, “if you don’t want to.” She smiles. “I would like your art on my skin, forever.”_ _

__“I want,” Clarke says, firm. She tugs Lexa up for a kiss. “It’s decided, then.”_ _

__“Yes,” Lexa agrees. She is so beautiful, Clarke thinks, as their kiss turns hungry and Lexa nudges her down, murmuring as she slips her fingers down Clarke’s belly, eager to find her wet and willing. Lexa fucks her, gentle, and after Clarke stops shaking she bows to Lexa, on her knees, her mouth between Lexa’s legs until she arches, falls apart. She pulls Clarke close and they kiss one last time, sated, before curling up, foreheads pressed together. Clarke can’t stop smiling._ _

__Lexa is beaming, lit up from within, and Clarke would trade her kingdom for a camera._ _

**Author's Note:**

> /o/ like I said, my new job just started and I could get slammed at any point, so I should stop spamming this site with my mediocre sin pretty soon
> 
>  
> 
> catch me on tumblr @ feeltripping


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